I told him everything I could remember from my dream.
At first, I felt awkward recounting the story, especially with him, the Dragon King, sitting right in front of me. After all, the protagonists were a boy and… well… him. But he insisted, so I swallowed my apprehension and began.
I changed the story slightly, replacing myself and the Dragon King with a young boy and his dragon.
As I spoke, his eyes held a look I would never forget, a mixture of longing and tenderness that melted the icy indifference he usually wore like a shield. His golden-green gaze shimmered with emotion, a depth I hadn't seen before, as if he were reliving those distant memories. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at that boy. His mind had drifted far beyond the confines of the Sanctuary, soaring through time and space to a place where he was free.
A pang of envy pierced my heart. I envied that boy. He had known a different Toothless, a Toothless who hadn't yet been broken by the weight of responsibility and loss. He had shared those carefree days with him, earned his trust, seen the world reflected in those clear, vibrant eyes. They had been inseparable, their bond unbreakable.
Then, I reached the part where the boy and his dragon had to part ways. The words caught in my throat. I didn't want to drag him back from those precious memories, to remind him of the cold, harsh reality he had built around himself. I didn't know the details of their separation, but I could feel the pain radiating from him, the raw, unhealed wound that had festered for centuries and transformed him into the distant, unapproachable Dragon King he was now.
He seemed to snap out of his reverie when I fell silent. "And then?" he asked, his voice strangely calm. "After the battle… what happened to them?"
I felt a lump form in my throat. His intense gaze bored into me, and I quickly lowered my eyes. Perhaps the dragon in my dream wasn't him after all. Perhaps it was all just a coincidence, a nonsensical dream. How could I possibly dream about the Dragon King's past?
"Uh… They… they went home together. And…"
"You're lying," he interrupted, his voice tight. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white, his expression hidden behind a curtain of dark hair.
"His dragon… He abandoned him. Left him behind. He flew away with his… his happiness, his… his love. Left him alone, drowning in…" His voice cracked, and I stared at him, bewildered.
"I'm a fool!" he cried, his voice thick with anguish. "Dragon King? I don't even know what's important to me! I lost him… I lost everything…"
A tear slid down his cheek, a single, shimmering drop that splashed onto the grass like a broken promise.
I watched him, my heart aching. In that moment, he was no longer the formidable Dragon King, but the heartbroken boy from my dream, his pain as real as my own. It was as if the circle of fate had finally closed.
I crept closer, my gaze drawn to the tears that streamed down his face. They were too precious to be wasted.
Without thinking, I reached out and licked his cheek, catching a teardrop on my tongue. He froze, his entire body stiffening.
The moment the action registered, my blood ran cold. What had I done? Was I trying to get myself killed?
He slowly raised his head, his eyes wide with bewilderment, as if he were still trying to process what had just happened. He had stopped crying, though. Maybe my impulsive gesture had actually worked.
His face was still wet with my saliva, his eyes red-rimmed, and his dazed expression made him look… almost vulnerable, like a lost hatchling.
He blinked a few times, then hastily wiped his face with his sleeve. "This… This stuff doesn't come off," he muttered, his voice thick with unshed tears.
He looked up at me, his expression softening. "Call me… Toothless," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Tooth… Toothless? Who would give a dragon such a name? It was… audacious, to say the least. Was it… the boy in my dream?
"Uh… I…" My tongue felt thick and clumsy. I couldn't bring myself to say it. Besides, I didn't even speak the human tongue.
"It's alright," he said gently. "I… I feel like I know you. Try it. Just once."
I closed my eyes, bracing myself. "Tooth… Toothless?" I stammered, my voice trembling.
A hand gently touched my snout. I opened my eyes, and our gazes met. And in that moment, I felt something shift, a deep sense of recognition, as if I had looked into those eyes a lifetime ago.
Part 2Hill told me a story about a boy and his dragon.
My story. Hiccup's and mine.
I had thought about him countless times over the years, relived every moment we had spent together. But never, not once, had those memories been so vivid, so real, as they were when Hill recounted that story.
It was as if it had all happened yesterday. As if we had only just parted ways, and I could fly back to Berk and find him waiting for me on the cliff, his emerald green eyes lighting up as he shouted my name. What tormented me most were the dreams, those beautiful, agonizing dreams where we were together, happier than we had ever been in real life. Because that's what dreams were: illusions.
Hill tried to give me the ending I craved, the ending I had dreamed of, the ending where neither of us had left.
But I knew the truth. I had flown away, never looking back, severing the bond we had forged. I had condemned us both to a lifetime of what-ifs and regrets.
The dam inside me broke, releasing a torrent of grief I had suppressed for centuries. Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless.
He licked away my tears, his gaze filled with… concern. For a fleeting moment, I saw Hiccup in his eyes. They had the same emerald green depths, the same kindness.
And then, as if possessed, I begged him to call me Toothless. The name a human had given me, a name that had haunted me for three hundred years.
I hesitantly reached out a hand, mirroring the gesture Hiccup had made all those years ago. Since his departure, I had avoided physical contact, retreating into a fortress of solitude.
But when I touched him, it was as if a piece of me that had been missing for far too long had finally been found. It was a strange, bittersweet feeling, a mixture of longing and… hope.
Who was this dragon?
I shifted into my dragon form and flew him back to Cloudjumper's cave. As I turned to leave, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and… hope.
"Tooth… Toothless," he stammered. "Can… Can I come back and visit you again?"
His earnestness disarmed me. "Of course," I said, my voice softer than I had intended. "I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."
Later that night, I retrieved the Dragon Manual.
For the first time in centuries, I turned to the pages Hiccup had written after our separation. I read them slowly, carefully, savoring each word.
The demands of leadership grow heavier with each passing day. Rebuilding Berk after the war… it's a daunting task. Even if he were still here, we wouldn't be able to fly together as often as we used to. But if he were still here… somehow, even the most tedious tasks would be bearable.
Astrid's pregnant. I buried his tail fin. In the cove where we met. I can't forget. All I can do is pretend I have.
Our son was born today. He's so small, I can hold him in my hands. His eyes are emerald green. I love my son more than anything, but… sometimes, those eyes… They remind me of another pair of eyes, eyes I'll never see again. I've seen too much of that color. I prefer the golden-green, the one that's gone. Maybe it's just me, but one color… it feels so… monotonous. Just like my life.
I almost threw away the scale today. I've wanted to so many times before… But I can't. It's all I have left of him. I suppose even a broken heart needs something to cling to.
It's so cold this winter. I tried to light the fire for hours, but it wouldn't catch. I never had to do it myself before. Winters weren't this cold back then. Because I had a pair of wings to shield me from the wind and snow.
Astrid almost died today… He was my reason for living. Now, all I have left is Astrid.
Astrid's gone. I don't know if it was really her I saw in my dream last night. Was she forgiving me? Or was it just wishful thinking? Either way… I miss you, Toothless. I always have. I always will. Maybe even after death. Until the next life, when I forget your name.
This is my last entry. I can feel my strength fading. It takes everything I have to write these words. Toothless, I'll be waiting. Always.
The entry ended there. I touched the page, surprised to find it damp. As I brushed away the moisture, more appeared, and I realized… I was crying. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. Thankfully, I was alone.
Those words… they were like knives twisting in my gut, tearing open old wounds.
I was over three hundred years old, and yet, I was sobbing like a hatchling. All those centuries I had spent trying to move on, trying to forget… they meant nothing. When it came to Hiccup, time was irrelevant. I was still the same dragon, the one who sought his comfort, his approval, his love. But he was gone. And no one else would indulge my childish whims. They would only look at me with awe and fear, begging for my protection, reminding me of my status. They would never say, "Oh, you useless reptile. You're such a drama queen. No matter how much you whine…"
I saw Hiccup in my dream that night.
He was fifteen, standing alone on a crystal bridge under a sky devoid of stars. I rushed towards him, calling his name, but he didn't hear me. He simply stared past me, his eyes fixed on something I couldn't see, an empty space filled with longing.
I reached out to touch his shoulder, but my hand passed through him.
I woke with a start, my heart pounding. I needed to speak to Omniscient. He was the oldest dragon in the Sanctuary, rumored to be over a thousand years old. He had seen the world, knew its secrets, even those of the realms beyond, the realms of gods and monsters. He was so ancient, he had forgotten his original name. We called him Omniscient, or simply, Om.
I had a theory, and I needed him to confirm it.
Om lived atop the highest peak in the Sanctuary, a place where the light of day and the light of the stars converged. He claimed it was the closest we could get to Odin.
He had built a small hut there and chosen to live as a human. He claimed the human form was more convenient for certain tasks.
I found him tending a small garden, an aroma of herbs and spices filling the air. The scent calmed the restless energy that had been swirling inside me for days.
Om's human form was… unexpected. He was a child, with soft, golden hair and mismatched eyes. His right eye was a clear blue, but his left eye was silver, the color of moonlight. He claimed it was the true color of a soul. His eyes sparkled with a wisdom that belied his youthful appearance. He claimed he was tired of being old. If he had to be human, he might as well be young again. He missed those days.
I had never gotten used to it, the sight of this ancient dragon inhabiting the body of a child, dispensing wisdom as if he were centuries old.
Without looking up, he gestured towards a small stool. I sat down, my long legs folded awkwardly beneath me.
I watched as he added a variety of strange ingredients to a pot simmering over a small fire. When it was ready, he poured me a cup.
The tea was scalding, but the heat barely registered on my dragon palate. It warmed me from the inside out, soothing the edges of my soul. I took a few more sips, savoring its calming effect.
He studied me intently as I drank. When I finished, he spoke.
"Better?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, surprised. "It's… It's calming. I feel… I feel more at peace."
He chuckled softly. "You young ones are always letting your emotions get the better of you. When you reach my age, you'll learn that nothing truly matters. I've seen it all, life and death, joy and sorrow. What is there to fear? What is there to cling to?"
Om was the only dragon in the Sanctuary who knew my secret.
"Maybe," I said, forcing a smile. "Maybe in a few centuries, I'll be as wise and detached as you."
He regarded me with a knowing look. I felt as if he could see through me, but his thoughts remained a mystery.
"So," he said, returning his attention to his garden, "what brings you here today? There's plenty more tea, if you need another cup."
"Om," I began, accepting the refill, "can… Can a human be reborn as a dragon?"
Part 3I've lived in this world for over a thousand years… Time blurs the edges of memories. I've forgotten where I came from, even my own name. They say a mind can only hold so many memories. Perhaps my origins and my name weren't that important to me after all.
I wandered this world, witnessing wonders both great and small. I saw the endless ice of the South, the shimmering aurora borealis of the North, the vast, sun-scorched deserts. I traveled among humans, disguised as a bard, sharing tales of my adventures with wide-eyed children.
Time, a relentless force, claimed the lives of lesser beings, their bodies returning to dust, their souls to the cold embrace of the underworld. But for dragons, time was a source of strength. Ancient power slumbered in our blood, passed down through generations, awakening as we aged. The longer we lived, the stronger we became, until finally, our souls were cleansed in the Well of Urd and returned to Odin's side.
I journeyed across mountains and seas, immersing myself in human cultures. The more I saw, the more knowledge I accumulated, the richer my spirit became. But my soul… my soul felt hollow. Perhaps it was my interactions with humans, their fragile yet enduring spirits, that made me aware of my own lack. I didn't possess their emotions, their capacity for love and joy, for anger and grief. Those fleeting, messy emotions that made them both weak and strong.
Time, in its infinite wisdom, granted me a unique gift: the ability to see souls. My left eye could perceive the essence of a living being. Red souls burned with passion, blue with icy resolve, white with innocence, and black with malice.
One day, I realized a piece of my own soul was missing, vanished without a trace, along with decades of memories. I searched for it for centuries, wandering the world, desperately trying to fill the void. But it was no use.
Defeated, I retreated from the world I had grown weary of, seeking refuge in the Sanctuary.
The Dragon King's soul was the most untamed, most extraordinary soul I had ever encountered. He was a creature of darkness, a Night Fury, the so-called unholy offspring of lightning and death, and yet his soul was as pure as sunlight, untouched by the darkness that pervaded the world.
And yet, clinging to that magnificent soul, I saw tendrils of darkness, a curse so insidious, so deeply rooted, that it threatened to consume him.
"Your Majesty," I said, frowning, the first time I met him. He had just arrived in the Sanctuary, united the dragons under his rule, and found his beloved queen. Everything seemed perfect. "Is something… troubling you?"
He looked at me in confusion. "Troubling me? What do you mean?"
"Nothing," I replied, turning away. "It was… nothing."
But it wasn't nothing. As I glanced at the Light Fury, a creature as beautiful and pure as a snowflake, I saw the unmistakable mark of dark magic etched onto her soul. It twisted her radiant smile into something grotesque, something unsettling.
I retreated to my hut and searched through my collection of ancient texts, my mind racing.
There were many kinds of magic in this world. Some were gifts from the gods, a force for good, banishing darkness and healing the wounded. Others were tools of evil, wielded by those who sought to corrupt and destroy.
I had encountered a dark sorceress once, a woman as alluring and venomous as a scorpion. She had used her magic to ensnare a king, plunging several nations into war. In the end, the king broke free from her control and killed her, but her magic lived on, whispered among those who sought power through darkness. They used it to manipulate and control, but their targets were always human. Humans were weak, susceptible to such magic. But to control a dragon, especially one as powerful as the Dragon King, required a different kind of magic, a darker kind, a magic fueled by desperation and sacrifice. A magic that bound the wielder to forces beyond their control, condemning them to eternal servitude after death.
But I couldn't find a way to break the curse.
I observed the Light Fury. She seemed oblivious to the darkness that clung to her. The Dragon King showed no signs of being controlled. But their love… it felt hollow, artificial. Perhaps it was simply because I didn't understand such things.
Decades later, on a moonless night, the Dragon King stormed into my hut. He looked… lost, his eyes empty and haunted, his voice barely a whisper as he mumbled incoherently.
I examined his soul and gasped. The curse was gone, revealing a mark that had been hidden beneath its shadow. It was the mark of a soul bond, a pact of protection forged between two beings, but the other soul… it was weak, faint, almost… human. This bond was one-sided, a selfless act of devotion.
He told me a story, a story of a human and a dragon, a story of love and loss.
And I realized I had been wrong. I knew how to break the curse. It required the death of a loved one.
The king, the one ensnared by the dark sorceress, had been freed only after his queen took her own life before his eyes.
I watched the Dragon King, his grief a tangible force, and told him what I had seen.
Fury blazed in his eyes, and the air around him crackled with blue energy. I even heard the distant rumble of thunder.
"You're saying… The Light Fury… she… she cursed me?" His voice was hoarse, laced with rage.
"Not necessarily," I replied, choosing my words carefully. "She… she doesn't seem to be aware of it. It was… It was a human. You know how they are. So much ambition, so much… darkness… hidden beneath their fragile exteriors."
As for their motives… it wasn't difficult to guess. They wanted to control the Dragon King, to use him for their own ends. The curse hadn't worked as intended, but it hadn't been broken either. I was the only one who could see it, the dark magic twisting their souls. The Light Fury had simply been a conduit, a pawn in their game.
"So… Hiccup… his death… it broke the curse?"
"It would seem so," I replied.
His eyes widened in horror, and his wings unfurled behind him, blue sparks dancing between his scales. "I'll… I'll kill them!" he roared, his voice cracking.
I watched him, my heart aching for the creature he had become, the powerful dragon consumed by grief and rage.
"Calm yourself, Your Majesty," I said, my voice firm. "Your anger… it disturbs me. What good will vengeance bring? Do you even know who cast the curse? Even if you did, they're most likely dead. The price of controlling a dragon… it's far greater than mere mortality."
He slammed his fist against the ground, shattering the rock beneath it.
"It wasn't your fault," I said softly.
But… I glanced at the mark on his forehead. It was still there. The other soul, the human soul bound to his… it hadn't moved on. It wouldn't fade until it passed through the Well of Urd.
I decided not to tell him. Let him believe that Hiccup's soul had simply vanished. If he went searching for it, ventured into the underworld, it would only cause more chaos. The dragons had only just stabilized after years of turmoil. They needed a leader, not a grieving, vengeful king. As an elder dragon, I had faith in the workings of fate. Years later, I would look back on that decision and realize I had done the right thing, sparing him from a futile quest.
His soul was pure again, cleansed of the curse, but it was also… fragile, prone to bouts of anger and despair. I often brewed him calming tonics, hoping to ease his pain.
"Do you believe… a human soul… can be reborn as a dragon?" he asked one day.
When he posed that question, my mind immediately went to that Night Fury hatchling, Hill.
The day he arrived in the Sanctuary, I had gone to see him, curious to catch a glimpse of what the Dragon King might have looked like as a hatchling. It had been so long since I had seen a young Night Fury. I had almost forgotten what the God of Thunder's offspring looked like in their youth.
What I saw that day shocked me to my core.
The mark on the Dragon King's forehead, the one that signified a soul bond… it was gone. The human soul he had been bound to… it had moved on. It had been there just a few days earlier.
And then I saw the hatchling's soul. It was… strange.
It shouldn't have been possible, a soul like that.
He was just a hatchling, and yet his soul was ancient, bearing the scars of countless lifetimes, a fragile, fragmented thing that seemed on the verge of dissolving. Something was hidden deep within it, something I couldn't quite grasp. But I could sense its essence. It was pure, innocent, a soul as untamed as the Dragon King's own.
It was all so very strange.
Toothless told me about Hill, about the dreams that haunted him, the feeling of familiarity, the emerald green eyes that mirrored his own…
I asked him to bring the hatchling to me. I had a theory, one that filled me with a thrill of excitement. After centuries of boredom and solitude, something interesting was finally happening.
The next day, Toothless brought Hill to my hut. The hatchling's soul had grown stronger since I had last seen it, its fragments knitting themselves together. And that was when I saw it, the magic woven around his soul, a powerful spell designed to seal away memories.